“Eye-eye, Cap,” Drew said with a mock salute. “But first I need to cover up my wife. I think she’s a little cold…”
Retrieving the throw once more, Drew draped it over Maxine’s trembling bare body and tucked it very carefully behind her shoulders so that it would—hopefully—remain in place should the flight attendants need access.
Reluctantly, he took his seat and fastened his own damn seatbelt, still minding his jittery, sassy wife as the knock at the door startled them both.
“Mack…” Lou called out but didn’t try the doorknob. “Yous alright?”
“We’re fine, Lou,” Drew responded. “We’re both—all strapped in.”
“Hmmph…” she muttered. Somehow, she had to get that damn mask off so that she could beg him for one, single, little, teensy-weensy orgasm. She figured she’d deal with the delicious consequences later.
“Just checking,” Lou returned. “Hit the call button if you need anything…”
“Oh, Maxine…” Drew threw his head back against the headrest, spread his legs and dropped his hands in his lap so very suspiciously. Sexual diversion always worked on her. Now, he could only hope that a little play could occupy her mind for the interim.
And that’s when the first bump hit, lifting them both a bit in their seats.
“And here we go…” Drew said. “Fuck…”
One thud after another, but he remained watchful to make certain that she wasn’t trying to safeword. No, Maxine just continued to struggle against the chair like a child throwing a tantrum.
In actuality, the turbulence itself didn’t bother her—she’d had her share of rocky flights between Pittsburgh and New York. It was the fact that she had to come and all the bouncing was just making matters so impossible.
Every time that fucking plane jumped, her clit nearly convulsed as her ass sprung against the seat, and the brush of her nipples against the velvety blanket sparked sensual spasms like none other. Never before had she felt so trapped.
“Please…”
He could hear her distinctly behind the mask just as the plane took another dip.
“Shit!” Even Drew clutched the arms of his seat with that thump. “Maxine…you’re not going anywhere, little one. If I could get up and hold you right now, I would…”
“FUUUUCK THE TURBULENCE!” she wailed into that yellow, plastic cup of a mask. “COME!!!!”
Loud and clear was her request, and he hoped the rest of their fellow passengers didn’t hear her begging, too. “Don’t you even think about it, Maxine,” he warned. “So help me, I’ll add it to my NSM app…”
“UGGGGGHHH!”
Forest fires in Central Park. Flooding in Manhattan. Paris is fucking burning…
Nope. Nothing was working for Maxine that evening. She still had to come.
Bounce, bounce, bounce…fuck, fuck, fuckballs…
At that point, she wasn’t sure what the most useful tactic would be—allowing her thighs to separate or pressing them together. Scooting back and forth didn’t seem to help either. The more she moved, the stronger she felt that pull between her legs.
Each and every thump just elbowed her closer to explosion, but at last, she managed to focus…if for no other reason than to win this little game. Yes, Drew was quite the competitive creature—even in bed with his own wife—and he so enjoyed seeing Maxine step up to the challenges he put forth for her. Likewise, Maxine exulted in the victory of proving herself to him, and she was bound and determined, both literally and figuratively, to win.
Just as she’d begun her own descent into calm, the rocky disturbances began to wane. You can do this, she told herself. He’s already won one bet. You can win this one!
“You still with me, little one?” he asked.
With another attempt to thwart that fucking mask, she murmured, “Mmm hmm!”
In spite of this rigorous and unexpected turn in their play that evening, Maxine knew all along that he still held his own grip on reality. If she needed him to stop, he would have risked his own life to free her.
And humiliation—even more so than pain—was Maxine’s most favorite turn-on.
At long last that reckoning ring alerted them to safety. “All clear…you are now free to roam about the cabin unless otherwise…”
However, before the pilot could finish his announcement, Drew had unbuckled himself to attend to Maxine.
“I see we’ve been practicing patience and fortitude,” he observed as he removed the mask, rubbing his fingers against the outline on her sensitive skin. “Talk to me…”
“Please, Sir…” was all she could possibly manage. And he didn’t need to ask her what she needed.
“Good girl…” he said, depressing his finger on the recliner and sending her chair straight back into a lounging position. Then, he kicked off his shoes and unfastened his belt buckle, only to pull his jeans and boxers away before crawling into the seat on top of her.
“What are you doing, Sir?” In the midst of all the chaos, she’d managed to remember her proper manners. Her only hope was that they wouldn’t break the damn seat!
“Last night, I took your virginity,” he explained, cradling her between his thighs. “Tonight, I’m making you an official member of the Mile High Club.”
“But the bed…master…bedroom…the…”
Unable to resist for one single second longer, he dropped his head to her breasts, sucking her supple skin into his mouth. “Who needs it?”
Instinctively, she moved to reach for him, but the seatbelts around her wrists held her back. Wiggling her bare bottom was a chore with Drew covering her, but she arched her back in earnest.
“Gotta be quick, little one…” he said and took himself in his hand. “In case we hit turbulence again…”
The real turbulence, as Maxine knew far too well, was about to erupt so deeply inside her.
With one single lunge, he drove into her, and Maxine met his thrust only to urge him nearer—as far as she could possibly take him within the confines of that seat.
“Make me sore, please, Kind Sir,” she pleaded with him.
“You love to feel me—even after I’ve left you…” he said, drawing away then soaring into her once again at full throttle. “Don’t you, Maxine…?”
How she did so adore it when he’d left behind his calling card upon her body, reminding her throughout the day that he’d been inside her.
With every plunge, he managed to unleash new sensations within her, drawing upon all of her most sensitive spots and lending her such exquisite pleasure. The human body, under Drew’s finely-tuned tutelage, was indeed an amazing creation.
Given that her hands were still tied behind her back, Maxine captured him with the strength of her legs, forcing him to prod her as roughly as only Drew could. In an out, that force of his friction just dizzied her, spiraling her sense of hedonism out of control.
“Come…” she squealed. “Pleeeeease…”
“Pull the ripcord for me, little one…” he muttered so gutturally against her breasts as he bit and pulled, heightening her feverish needs. “Fly with me…”
“Aww…yesssssss!” she moaned, giving herself over to that burn of bliss that seared throughout her body. This euphoric daze carried her far beyond orgasm, claiming her in its wild sweep and leaving her languishing beneath him with the underlying need for a repeat.
“Welcome to the Club, little one…” he whispered at last, kissing her back into a state of calm.
“What a welcome…”
Chapter Nineteen
Rush hour traffic was, at its best, abysmal, but the morning was sunny and bright. And as Maxine took in her new surroundings with wide-eyed wonder, she couldn’t help but note that the sky seemed just a little bluer in France, and that the tufts of clouds floating above were just so perfectly formed, as if one of the great French artists had painted them there.
As they neared the outer limits of Paris, Drew was quick to point out Stade de France—the country’s natio
nal stadium where soccer matches and concerts were held. And in the far off distance, he directed her attention to a quick glimpse of the famous basilica, Sacre Coeur, which boasted one of the most spectacular views of the city from the hills of Montmartre.
By the time they’d reached the center of the city, however, Maxine already knew that she had fallen in love for a second time in her life. The timeworn beauty that passed by her tinted window that morning left her nothing short of enthralled.
So unlike New York, the buildings were much smaller than the towering skyscrapers to which she had grown accustomed. However, it was the diverse architecture throughout the city that lured her. Traces of influence—from Roman to Rococo, Medieval to Modern, with touches of Renaissance, Baroque, Classical, Neo-Classical, Empire, Art Nouveau and Art Deco in the mix—in every last tiny corner of the city captured her attention. She felt as if they were driving through the world’s most picturesque museum as she absorbed every detail.
Drew anticipated her commentary, but he ignored his impatience for once and allowed Maxine the chance to soak in this new experience to the fullest.
And then…at long last…words finally fell from Maxine’s gaping jaw.
“Sacre…fuckballs…”
Naturally, Drew had arranged ahead of time for the driver to cruise past the Eiffel Tower. While they were going a bit out of their way, he didn’t care. She needed to experience that “wow” effect immediately. And cliché aside, there was nothing greater than seeing that symbol of Paris in all of her glory.
While the Empire State Building hovered about two hundred feet above that steel structure before them, she simply couldn’t believe its size—its girth. The pillars alone could have been monuments in their own right.
There was just something so indescribable about seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time with Drew. That one single structure, to her, embodied their relationship. Throughout its history, there was drama, romance, war and peace—but the Tower still stood as a testament to all.
As they sat through that red light that wasn’t nearly long enough, Maxine reached for Drew’s hand.
“We’ll get to the top—tonight, I promise, little one…”
With every ounce of seduction she could muster, she beseeched, “Spank me like one of your French girls?”
Only Maxine could find humor in the sadomasochistic proclivities of their relationship. “Oh, little one…” he groaned. “Soon…”
On through the meandering streets of Paris they drove, along Pont Alexandre—one of many bridges crossing the Seine—which joined the Left Bank to the Right.
Constructed for the World’s Fair of 1900 just like the Eiffel Tower down the river, the bridge was a masterpiece in itself. Accentuated in gold, the crossway showcased ornate statues of cherubs and nymphs, seemingly at watch over the water while their bronze counterparts stood guard on each side.
Often considered one of the most beautiful bridges in the city, Pont Alexandre was the perfect spot to take in the monuments and historical sites, boasting views of the Tower, the Louvre and Napoleon’s cathedral-like tomb.
The air of romance seemed to heighten with every block. Paris was, Maxine had decided, the perfect place to begin their honeymoon…and their new lives together.
Maxine was certain that she was driving Drew mad with her constant stream of, “Ooooh! I wanna go there…! And there…!” but he laughed alongside her. Seeing the city through Maxine’s eyes, made him feel like he was visiting for the first time all over again, just as he’d played tourist with her in New York.
Guiding her as best he could and pointing out all of the sites, Drew gently turned her head to peer out the rear window once they’d reached the Champs Elysées. “What do you see?”
Behind them, the Arch de Triomphe rose above them in all her glory. So majestic, the neoclassical design bore the nation’s patriotism in several renderings that saluted both soldiers known and unknown. In fact, she could almost hear the “Marseillaise” playing in her head as the car crept down the grand boulevard.
As they cruised further from the Champs Elysées, Maxine found herself lost in wonderment as they turned onto Rue St. Honoré, which offered a drastically different vibe. Nearly every major fashion house in the world had a presence on that street. Michael Kors. Zara. Armani. Galliano. And the list just went on, boutique after boutique.
“You’d better do some shopping while we’re here, little one,” he ordered. “And not just at McKenzie’s Paris. You’ve got the fashion world at your fingertips…”
“Drew, you know that I—”
Once she’d officially moved in, Drew handed her an American Express card and told her not to worry about the balance. However, Maxine remained staunch about paying her own bills and funding her own lifestyle. She continued to use her own Visa.
Her reluctance to spend his money was both a frustration and endearment to Drew. As far as he was concerned, she’d proven herself from the beginning, and his bank account meant nothing to Maxine. He wanted her to enjoy herself by every possible means—even if he had to force her a little along the way.
“I expect to see a minimum of five shopping bags a day, young lady,” he said. “Or I’ll turn you over to my NSM app for obedience training…”
“I’d rather face the consequences than enhance my wardrobe, Kind Sir,” she defied him.
“Oh, little one,” he ruffled his fingers through her hair. “I’ll deal with you later. Our hotel is just around the corner here.”
As they made a sharp turn into Place Vendôme, Maxine thought she just might end up with the hiccups again as her gaping eyes danced from corner to corner. Bracing for the worst, he reached for the complimentary bottle of water on the door handle.
“Drew…!”
Lined by palace-like facades with arched doorways and tall windows, the vast cobblestoned square housed shops like Chanel and Van Cleef and of one of the most famous hotels in the world.
Immediately, she recognized the Ritz by the white awnings that hung over the entry. This would be home for the next few days.
The hotel’s General Manager, Etienne Marceau, met them as they stepped out of the car, bypassing all usual procedures of check-in. Declan and Maggie had spent many nights in that establishment on their travels over the years, and they’d grown to know the staff.
Naturally, Monsieur Marceau wanted to escort them personally to the Imperial Suite, for which the hotel charged nearly twenty-thousand dollars per night. “Bonjour, Monsieur, Madame McKenzie…”
“Bonjour, Monsieur,” Maxine said almost timidly, minding her proper etiquette as she extended her hand. All the while, she hoped this charming man wouldn’t try to speak to her in French. Somehow, she just knew that eight years of studying the language in high school and college weren’t going to get her through her honeymoon!
“Did you have a good flight?” he asked, prompting Maxine’s sigh of relief.
“Very good, Monsieur.” Drew flashed Maxine a knowing, wicked grin.
Somehow their luggage—and there were so many pieces—seemed to disappear with the full crew of bellhops that unloaded the car.
The thick royal blue and yellow carpeting was almost like a pillow beneath her feet, as they stepped into the hotel and made their way toward the elevator. Strolling in a trancelike state, Maxine began to ponder all of the famous faces that might have stepped along this same path. Chanel. Cole Porter. Bergman. Hemingway. Hell, they’d even named the bar after the literary legend.
As her eyes caught glimpses of the extravagant atmosphere, they walked beneath the archways that mirrored those that led into the building. Bright morning sunlight filtered through the giant windows that were lined with thick navy blue and gold drapes. While she tried her best not to stare at the gilded statues and sconces, Maxine couldn’t help but to wonder how the hell she got there.
Once alone in the elevator that would lead them to the Imperial Suite, the good Monsieur made small talk, congratulating them on the
wedding and inquiring how Drew’s parents were doing.
However, walking down that private hallway toward their suite, Maxine treaded carefully upon the black and white marble floor, feeling like a trespasser in her own hotel room. She was glad when Monsieur Marceau reached for the doorknob poking from an encrusted panel of gold. With her luck, she feared it might just break off in her hand.
Maxine’s sense of awe certainly didn’t end when they stopped inside the palatial suite, which boasted twenty-foot ceilings and the perfect view of the obelisk in the plaza. Leaders of the world, celebrities, and royalty alike had all inhabited this space over the hotel’s well over century-long history. Even Princess Diana had spent some of the final moments of her life within these delicately sculpted, paneled walls.
“I shall leave you alone now to settle,” Monsieur Marceau said with a dutiful nod. “Monsieur McKenzie, you have my private mobile number, should you require any additional assistance beyond the staff here in the suite…”
“Merci, Monsieur,” Drew said, papering his hand with a stack of Euros and making a mental note to take care of the bell caps with equal generosity. Somehow their luggage had already been delivered and was set to unpack in one of the two bedrooms.
Yet when the door closed, and they were alone at last, the reality of Maxine’s new life began to wash over her.
Drew immediately caught the sudden intensity of her mood, and quickly made his inquiry. “What’s wrong, little one? You don’t like it?” he pulled her into his arms.
Jetlagged and depleted of energy from the entire week leading up to the wedding, Maxine allowed her emotions to claim her. She shook her head. Everything was beyond flawless. However, the devil always sat among the minutest details, and she began to tear up once again.
“The trip…and…Paris…and this suite!” she sobbed just a little harder. “Drew, I don’t belong here…royalty has slept in that bed!”
“Hey, hey, hey…” his voice soothed her like none other could as his fingertips smoothed away the tears from her face. “You are Thomas Kirk’s Princess, and you are my Queen.”
KNOTTED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Three Page 29